


Warmth

by missgnutmeg



Series: Scattered Family Portraits [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgnutmeg/pseuds/missgnutmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon tries to help Turgon get past the grief of his wife's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I've used the Quendyan versions of all the names. 
> 
> Turukáno = Turgon  
> Findekáno = Fingon  
> Irissë = Aredhel  
> Itarillë = Idril

He had saved Itarillë. He had saved his little girl. That was the important part, right?

People whispered softly of how heroic he was, how strong, to save his daughter when he couldn't save his wife. He'd had to watch his wife die in the crushing ice, while burying their young daughter's face against his neck so she wouldn't be subjected to the same horror.

They'd barely had time to enjoy being married. And Itarillë was still so young. Would she even remember her mother when she grew up?

 

Turukáno sighed, taking another step. All could see that Elenwë had died, physically, but would anyone notice that she took him with her? In his arms, little Itarillë slept quietly. He prayed she was dreaming of light and flowers, or rain and grass, or stars and field, or anything that wasn't this endless sheet of nighttime ice. He didn't look at her, though. Her golden hair and blue eyes were too much like her mother's. They were painful to him.

 

He stumbled suddenly over an out-jutting piece of ice he had not noticed. He clutched his daughter closer to him in fear of the fall, when he noticed that it did not happen for there were strong arms around him. Eyes opened that had only just been closed in fear and he looked over his shoulder to see his older brother there.

"Steady, Turu. I've got you."

Findekáno smiled at him. Smiled? How could such an expression even exist anymore? But he drew comfort from his brother. "Findekáno-" He started, but he didn't know what else he was going to say.

Luckily, his brother seemed to know this. "Atar says we will stop for the night shortly. Would you like me to take Itarillë so you can find some peace tonight?"

"No, I will take the little one. You stay with Turu, Finde." Irissë, their sister, appeared on his other side and took his daughter gently from his arms. "She's not the only one who needs looking after."

The smile Irissë shot back at them as she wandered away carrying his daughter puzzled him. What did she mean? But he did find some solace in the warmth of his brother's body beside him and the arm pressed against his back.

It wasn't long before their father called the hault of their march, just as Findekáno had said, and the elven host began to settle down for the night. Findekáno let him watch Irissë settle near one of the large fires with Itarillë, sharing their blankets for increased warmth, before tugging his arm to draw him away from the larger body of the host.

Turukáno looked at his brother in confusion. "You choose to move away from warmth and safety of the group?"

"I doubt your heart will find much warmth even in their companionship." A shrug and that puzzling smile again. "But let me try, little brother."

So he allowed his brother to lead him to a small, sheltered area that was distant but still within sight of the others. They sat down together, and started pulling out their blankets to make themselves their makeshift bed for the night. In some ways, it reminded Turukáno of when he was little, of the times he would have bad dreams but his parents weren't at home so he would crawl into his older brother's bed instead. As he'd grown older, they'd become closer, to the point where he'd go to Findekáno before his parents.

"Where are you, Turu?" His brother's soft voice, as well as the light rap on his forehead, brought his attention back to the present.

"I was just thinking about when we were young. Long before any of this madness." Turukáno sighed and leaned against his brother, who wrapped warm arms around him much to his approval. "Why did we think this was a good idea, Finde? Why did we encourage atar to follow through? We could have turned back with uncle Ara. Uncle Fëanor is fey. Surely the valar would have forgiven atar for breaking his oath to a madman?"

Findekáno's hand moved up, to gently stroke his younger brother's hair. "Perhaps they would have, Turu, but I don't think atar would have forgiven himself. Besides, so many of our people also wished to come. Would you have left them to the rule of a madman?"

"No." Turukáno sighed then, and pressed his face against his brother's neck. He pulled comfort from his warmth, from his smell, from his strong body. Findekáno merely held him. The elder brother new, somehow, exactly what the younger needed and gave it to him. For a long time, a silence fell over them like a blanket.

Finally the silence was broken by a quiet sob and the whispered admission, "I miss her."

"Ai, Turu. Shhh." Findekáno rocked his brother as the younger elf cried, holding him carefully and placing gentle kisses on his hair and face. "Shhh. I'm here, brother. I won't let go of you."

He cried for a long while, though he never knew if it was minutes or hours he did know Findekáno held him the whole time and pressed gentle kisses on to him. As those tears finally began to clear, his brother cupped his face with both hands and held him so they were facing eye to eye. "Stay with me, Turu, don't follow her into death. I need you."

Findekáno leaned in them, claiming his lips in a tender and loving kiss. Eyes wide with surprise, Turukáno nearly pulled back but some part of him felt as though he needed this and he leaned into the gesture instead, kissing his brother as he would have kissed his wife.

"You're mine, Turu. Stay with me." Findekáno whispered to him as the kiss finally broke off. He stared at his brother. What could that mean? Was it? But Findekáno didn't leave him time to wonder, as he snuggled them both into their blankets. "Sleep now, little brother, our road is long and you are tired."

Turukáno curled up against his older brother, their bodies so close that they'd have to be inside each other to be closer. But their hearts were already that close.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I know it's been read that way (and this is an old fic) I thought I'd just point out the kiss is for comfort and not meant to actually be romantic.


End file.
